


let's be (more than?) friends

by nobodysusername



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, alternate universe where billy hargrove isnt THAT much of a bastard, featuring a Joyce Byers and the Kids cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodysusername/pseuds/nobodysusername
Summary: So Steve isn’t sure if his original assessment had been fair because, well, he’s not sure what they are. He guesses he could call Billy an acquaintance—certainly not a friend, yet, but he sees the possibility taking shape before him and wonders why he hadn’t thought they would get along. Their interests are similar enough: horror movies, basketball, men… Not that they talk about that last one.





	let's be (more than?) friends

**Author's Note:**

> i really made this one up as i went along so if it's hot garbage... that's why :/ comments, feedback, kudos all appreciated!!! <3

As soon as he sees the guy, Steve has a feeling they won’t ever be friends. His name, according to the construction paper heart taped on the door, is William Hargrove. When Steve enters the room, dragging his suitcase along, William looks up from the desk and says, “I’m Billy.” So then he's Billy.

What Steve knows about Billy is that he’s from California but has lived “all over” (wherever that is), and that he uses at least as much hair product as Steve—but different products, and they achieve a completely different look: Billy slicks his hair down, mostly, and it makes him look very prep. Steve finds that kind of jarring because talking to Billy reveals that he himself is not prep at all, actually (not that Steve is either, of course).

They only really talk in the initial days of the semester, during freshman orientation and the beginning of the drop/add period. After that their communication drops off significantly, and this doesn’t surprise Steve because he didn't think they’d be friends. Billy is too cool, and also too _raw_, somehow, to gel with someone like Steve.

This doesn’t perturb Steve, because he knows Nancy from high school (never mind that things have been so awkward since she started dating Jonathan—_are they doing long distance?_ he wonders—and maybe Steve’s still a little bit in love with her but what of it?), and he joins an intramural soccer club so he gets acquaintances from that and his classes. Not to mention the party circuit, which he’d started hitting pretty much as soon as he’d arrived—and that’s one thing he and Billy seem to have in common, though Steve always finds his way back to the dorm by one or two in the morning and Billy sometimes disappears for entire weekends.

All of this is to say that Steve’s freshman year experience is going, on the whole, fine. He has no close friends to speak of (yet) but he also isn’t having any personal crises that would require them, plus he knows in a pinch he has Nancy. As far as Steve can tell, Billy’s been faring similarly, perhaps the main difference being that Billy seems miraculously on top of his shit academically while Steve is just scraping by, despite putting in hours at the library every day.

Billy mostly stays out of Steve’s way, though it’s annoying when he comes back from a night (or a weekend) of debauchery at the crack of dawn, waking Steve with the sound of his stumbling and the light from the hallway. 

But then October long weekend rolls around, and things… change. At least a bit, anyways.

Steve decides to stay on campus because there’s really no point asking his parents to buy a plane ticket for him to go home for just four days, and it’s not like there’ll be much going on in Indiana anyways.

A few days before the weekend, he asks Billy his plans.

“Staying here,” Billy says with a shrug.

“Where do your parents live?” Steve asks, because he knows that asking where Billy’s from will only get the response: “California.”

“They live in Connecticut, now,” he says, looking sort of past Steve. They’re both at their desks in the dorm, but Steve isn’t doing homework and right now Billy isn’t, either. Steve realizes that Billy must be looking at the picture of Dustin and the other kids that’s taped to the wall on Steve’s side. He wonders what Billy’s thinking.

“Connecticut is like, really close, isn’t it? Why aren’t you going home?” Steve asks.

It’s an innocuous question, or so Steve thinks, but Billy’s expression darks. “Why don’t you mind your own business?” he snaps, turning back to his work. He scribbles angrily for a moment and then stands, snatching up his papers. “I’ll be in the study room,” he says, opening the door, and Steve can tell that he’s not welcome to join.

Later, Steve tries to broach the subject again. He feels bad about whatever he did to incur Billy’s wrath, and he wants to reach a détente. Nobody likes making an enemy of their roommate, and Steve figures that’s the last thing he needs. 

Billy stays in the study room for hours; Steve sees him working with a scowl on his face when he goes to take a leak and he’s still there when Steve goes to get dinner. He finally returns to their room around nine, not looking any happier than he had in the study room.

“Listen,” Steve starts, feeling awkward. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Billy is at his desk again, on his laptop now, and he glances back at Steve. He does not look very forgiving, but he doesn’t say anything angry so Steve forges ahead.

“I’ll be here too, so we should hang out. We’ve lived together for almost two months and I hardly know you, man.” Steve smiles then, but it’s forced and he knows Billy can see that.

“Sure,” Billy says, turning back to his laptop. Small victories.

And when Friday afternoon rolls around, along with the promise of four days of no plans and generally limited access to social happenings (the party-throwers are all at home—partying with their high school friends, Steve imagines), Billy finds Steve in their room and says, “Let’s do something, bitch.”

So they start with easy, even boring shit. They get drunk and play truth or dare and order Domino’s, and Billy dares Steve to get the pizza (meaning walk downstairs and go out to the parking lot when the driver arrives) wearing just his underwear. Steve’s feeling pretty tipsy and he doesn’t want to get on the wrong side of this buzz, so he agrees and ten minutes later when his phone rings and the pizzaman’s here, he regrets it. 

He strips down reluctantly, feeling grateful that he’d worn one of his less shabby pairs of boxer-briefs, and argues with Billy over whether he’s allowed to keep his socks on (he wins, which is good because he’d rather not get a weird foot disease from walking barefoot on the crusty floor of their dorm building). Billy watches him strip, and his gaze makes Steve’s face heat (he hopes Billy can’t see the blush), but it’s over quickly enough, Steve scuttling as quickly as possible down the stairs and then back up, pizza in hand. He’d tipped the driver generously, so the guy would forgive him for being (or at least looking like) a perv.

Billy laughs kind of maniacally when Steve comes back, and slaps his bare shoulder. “Respect!” he says, his eyes alight with something like joy. “You’ve got balls, man! I don’t think I could’ve done that.”

Steve grins back, feeling important somehow. “Truth or dare?” he prompts, throwing open the pizza box and grabbing a greasy slice.

“Truth,” Billy says after a contemplative pause.

Up until now their truths and dares have been mild, the underwear pizza-fetching being the most risqué by far. But maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s the way Billy’s eyes had flashed as he’d laughed, but something’s intoxicated Steve enough that he gets brave for a second, so he asks, “Have you ever kissed a guy?”

And there’s that same warning look from a few days ago—Steve’s afraid that he’s gone too far, but the warning disappears when Billy looks away.

“Yeah,” he says, kind of quietly, and Steve thinks, _oh_.

“Oh,” he says out loud, and Billy quickly looks up again, his expression on the brink of angry.

“No, no,” Steve says, gesturing with his hands and a slice of pizza to emphasize the words. “I’m not, like, homophobic or anything. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to out you—not that that means you’re—I mean,” he fumbles with his words, floundering, and then finishes with, “I’m bisexual.”

The room is very silent, then, and Steve feels like it’s been vacuum-sealed: there’s no air, just a feeling of compression. He’s never really told anyone in those words, but he thinks Nancy knows, and he’s made out with guys on occasion at parties—always discretely, in bathrooms or dark corners where people’s jackets are piled on the couch or the floor. Places where other people won’t glance his way, accidentally or on purpose.

Billy is staring pretty intently at him now, and he can feel his face turning red again.

“I’m gay,” he says, simply. His tone is a little defiant, but what is Steve going to say to that?

“Okay, cool,” Steve nods. Then, after a pause, “Should we keep playing?”

Billy grabs a slice of pizza, tossing a crust back into the box (what kind of monster doesn’t eat the crust? Steve wonders), and says, “Nah, shit gets boring. We could watch a movie if you want.”

And then they watch a movie, sitting side by side on Billy’s bed (and it smells like Billy, nice cologne and hair gel and sweat, but in a good way).

The rest of the weekend passes similarly: during the day they do their own thing, though they get lunch together every day because neither of them knows anyone else who stuck around, and then they spend the evening in their dorm, fucking around. At the end of it Steve feels he knows Billy more, but only a little. He wonders if Billy feels like he knows Steve.

So Steve isn’t sure if his original assessment had been fair because, well, he’s not sure what they are. He guesses he could call Billy an acquaintance—certainly not a friend, _yet_, but he sees the possibility taking shape before him and wonders why he hadn’t thought they would get along. Their interests are similar enough: horror movies, basketball, men… Not that they talk about that last one.

In early November, the week after Halloweekend (and that’s a crazy weekend; Steve isn’t sober for four days), Billy has a nightmare. At least, Steve assumes it’s a nightmare, because he’s woken in the middle of the night by a shout and when he jerks alert at the noise, heart pounding, he looks to his right and sees Billy thrashing in his bed, mumbling with his eyes closed.

What are you supposed to do when someone has a nightmare? Do you wake them up? Or is that dangerous? Steve feels like he read something about it somewhere a long time ago, but he can’t conjure the relevant information from his brain so he decides it’s better to risk suffering himself than let Billy continue to suffer.

He shuffles the short distance from his bed to Billy’s and presses a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Billy,” he whispers as loudly as he can. “Billy, it’s a dream, wake up.”

Billy doesn’t stir at first, just keeps moving and mumbling to himself, but when Steve begins to gently jostle him he opens his eyes. “What—?” he says, blinking awake.

“You were yelling,” Steve explains. “Maybe you were having a nightmare? But you woke me up, and—”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Billy says, and he sounds sorry. He covers his face with his hands, drags them up into his hair. Steve notices that it’s damp (from sweat, Steve assumes) and curly, not gelled back for once. It looks nice.

“Don’t be sorry,” Steve says quickly. “I just meant that if it was enough to wake me up, it must have been a hell of a dream.” 

“Yeah,” Billy mutters.

Steve realizes he’s still sort of hovering over his roommate, so he takes a step back. “Um,” he says. “Well, good night again.”

“Night,” Billy says, turning to face the wall. He curls into himself and for some reason the sight of it makes Steve sad.

And then suddenly it’s Thanksgiving, and the semester is almost over. There’s a little while where Steve thinks he won’t be going home for that because his dad had mentioned a business trip on the phone, but then it turns out that the business trip is in the first week of December and his mom had already booked the tickets, so Steve’s going home for Thanksgiving!

He doesn’t ask Billy whether he’s going home, not wanting to risk upsetting the easy camaraderie they’ve built over the past month, but he worries about it. He wonders about offering for Billy to come home with him, but that seems rash, unreasonable. What would his parents think about him bringing his roommate? What would they even think of Billy? And what would Billy think about the offer? He might mistake it for something like pity or concern, and those seem like things that would piss Billy off if directed at him.

So Steve goes home for Thanksgiving, and he sees the kids his mom calls his “babysitting victims,” and he wishes he had Billy’s number and wonders why he doesn’t. They’re roommates, after all—his roommate’s number seems like the kind of thing Steve should have, he thinks.

He thinks about it on the flight back to school, how he’ll get Billy’s number. He knows that the way to go is to just ask, but for some reason he spends a lot of time hashing it out in his mind. What if Billy thinks that’s weird? Is it? Of course it’s not, Steve mentally argues with himself, it would be weird if Billy thought it was weird.

He’s still thinking about it when he’s unlocking the door to their room, but when he opens it (he hadn’t thought to knock) Billy is changing, and he sees a bloom of mottled bruises on his ribcage and down his side.

“Holy shit,” he says, and Billy jumps.

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, yanking his shirt down and glaring at Steve. “Give a guy some fucking warning.” He folds his arms over his chest, but the effect is more one of hiding than defiance. Like he’s folding in on himself.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, closing the door behind himself. What the hell had happened to Billy?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Billy said shortly, turning to his bed. Steve saw that there was an open suitcase on top of it: Billy was unpacking. He must have gone home.

Before he can think better of it, Steve asks, “What happened?”

Billy turns and glares. “Why the fuck would that be your business?” he snaps.

“Whoa, I’m sorry. It just—it looks pretty bad, like. I just wanna know you’re okay, man.” Steve feels vulnerable admitting this, but he thinks Billy should know. He looks down as he speaks but looks back up, catches Billy’s gaze, when he finishes. Billy looks away.

“Like I said, I’m fine. I fell.”

Steve bites back any possible response and instead asks, “How was home?”

Billy laughs bitterly, which is kind of disturbing. “Place is a shithole, I hate Connecticut.”

“I mean, Connecticut is like a cheap Massachusetts, and you manage here just fine,” Steve points out. Billy rolls his eyes.

“Fair enough,” he mutters. 

For some reason after this, Steve decides that they are friends, actually, and that he’d been wrong to assume it was an impossibility. They still operate in different circles for the most part, but they make a point to get meals together and they still do movies and pizza at least once on weekends, and Billy even helps Steve with his statistics homework because it turns out Billy is really fucking smart. He casually mentions one day that he’s on full scholarship and Steve just about has a conniption, because he’s pretty sure the only reason _he_ was accepted is that his parents can foot the bill.

And Steve hates how much he likes the smell of Billy’s cologne; how strong it is when he leans over Steve’s desk to correct Steve’s homework. It’s humiliating how fast his heart beats when they’re watching a movie and Billy falls asleep in Steve’s bed, how he feels when Billy puts a hand on his shoulder when they’re joking around. He’s starting to feel more-than-friend feelings, not just friend feelings, and that’s a dangerous game to play.

But then the semester is ending, just like that.

Once he was back with Billy and living in the same room it hadn’t seemed to matter anymore, but faced with the fact that they’d be separate for an entire month during winter break, Steve’s desire to get his roommate’s phone number is renewed. He finally gets around to asking during finals week.

“Hey,” he says, looking up from his review sheet when Billy comes in. He’s coming back from a final, and Steve would ask how it went but he’s confident that Billy killed it and Billy’s smile confirms it.

“Hey,” Billy says with a little nod of greeting. Steve hates that he finds it endearing, that little nod. The dip of his chin, the curve of his smile.

“Hey,” Steve says again, stupidly. He recovers quickly with, “I was thinking that we should swap numbers. It’s kind of crazy that we haven’t already, but since we’ll be apart for a month and stuff, plus I feel like we should maybe coordinate about when we’re coming back and if we want to get stuff for the dorm for spring semester,” he’s babbling but luckily Billy cuts him off.

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah, that sounds good. Let’s swap numbers, gimme your phone.”

And just like that, Steve gets Billy’s number.

They actually text over winter break, a bit. Things like “Merry Christmas!” (or really, _merry xmas!!_) and “Thinking of you” with a picture of dog shit on the sidewalk, mindless exchanges. They’re dumb and insignificant but it makes Steve’s heart jump when he sees Billy’s name come up on his lock screen.

The texts stop abruptly after New Year’s, and that scares Steve. He messages Billy a couple of times, his texts in the same vein as their earlier exchanges, but his last one’s a little more desperate.

_everything ok?_ He’d written.

_yep_, came Billy’s reply. That was it.

Steve feels uneasy about returning to campus; he feels like he doesn’t know his roommate anymore, though the unease doesn’t do anything to curb his growing attraction (he won’t call it a crush, this isn’t middle school) to Billy.

At home, he masturbates to images of Billy in his mind, fantasizes about Billy touching him the way he touches himself. He feels guilty and dirty when he does it, like he’s exploiting their friendship somehow, but not enough to stop.

When he gets back to school he’s surprised to find that Billy isn’t back yet, but he doesn’t text to ask when Billy’s coming. He doesn’t want to be ignored again, it had been too disappointing the first time.

When it becomes clear the first day that Billy isn’t coming, Steve lies on Billy’s bed for a minute and just breathes in the smell of him. He goes back to his own bed, even gets under the covers for good measure, and then masturbates almost frantically, orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave.

Steve passes four days this way; when he isn’t masturbating and thinking about Billy—and he hates that being away from him has made him that much more irresistible—he’s watching movies and thinking about Billy, or eating and thinking about Billy. He knows the whole thing is at risk of going nuclear: the L word. He tries not to think about it, about the L word that is, but he can’t not think about Billy so with that he doesn’t even try.

Steve thinks it would be easier if Billy were straight, or even just if Steve thought he was. It’s not like they’ve talked about it, about their shared queerness, since it came up on that first night of acquaintanceship. But that night was enough: Steve knows Billy’s gay, so a part of him can’t help but think, hopefully, _why not Steve?_

But the rational part of him knows that there are plenty of answers to that question. Steve is an idiot, for one thing, and Billy knows that (he’s seen Steve’s math grades). Steve is just not on the same level as Billy, anyways. Steve has his soccer pals to get meals with, and now he’s sort of back to a good place with Nancy, and he’s got friends from the party circuit (though he seems never to run into them anywhere but at parties), but Billy, he knows, is _popular_. And how could he not be? He’s gorgeous, smart, and athletic. He’s a little rough around the edges, a little temperamental, sure, but even that has its appeal. Billy could have anyone, Steve thinks. Why would he want Steve?

Billy comes back the night before classes start, and he barely interacts with Steve except to exchange cursory small talk. Clearly something’s changed between them, and Steve feels hurt as well as alarmed. What if Billy knows, somehow?

Billy starts bringing home girls.

The first time it happens, Steve is just on the cusp of sleep—he’d come back early, disappointed by the party scene on senior street (nothing but rowdy freshmen and Public Safety officers looking to give students warnings and disciplinary points). The door bangs open and he hears a woman’s voice, opens one eye and sees Billy making out roughly with a tall brunette, her hands on the collar of his shirt. Steve panics and pretends to be asleep, hoping Billy will see him and spare him. Steve’s mind is racing—Billy is gay, Billy is gay, isn’t Billy gay? Is Steve crazy?

They make out against the door for what seems like ages, and he can hear the footsteps of them working their way to the bed. Then Billy hisses, “Shit!” and the girl says, “What the hell?” and then more footsteps and more words and finally the door opening and closing again.

They don’t talk about it the next day, Billy and Steve, because why would they? Billy thinks Steve was asleep, and Steve wishes he had been.

That’s not the end of it, though. Billy starts messaging Steve on weekends, _can i have the room for like an hr?_ and the like. Steve feels humiliated and ashamed but he acquiesces, lurking alone with his laptop in the study room or the library, no longer in the mood to chase parties or their participants. They stop watching movies together; they don’t hang out, and they don’t talk about it.

Then one night Billy comes home drunk, like _really_ drunk, and he doesn’t have a girl in tow. Steve is in his bed, reading a book for his English seminar, when the door swings open and Billy stumbles in.

“Harrington,” he says, slurring his speech. “Need to talk t’you.” He sort of staggers toward his bed and Steve starts to get up, but Billy’s made it there by the time he’s ready to help. And what would he have done, anyways? So Steve sits back down on his own bed and looks at Billy.

“About what?” he asks.

“Us,” Billy answers, listing to one side. He kicks his shoes off. “I’m so, so fucked up,” he says then, mostly to himself. He isn’t looking at Steve.

“Okay…” Steve says, expectant. “What about us?”

“I’m not, I can’t,” Billy starts. He brings a hand to his mouth, bites at his thumbnail, keeps looking at things that aren’t Steve. “Not gay, I’m not gay, but we’re still—we’re friends, yeah?”

“Of course we’re friends,” Steve says, even though he’s not sure. Are they? They’re something, or they were. He’d thought they’d been friends. He doesn’t know what they are now. And what does Billy being gay have to do with it?

“Okay,” Billy breathes. He looks at Steve then, his eyes kind of bloodshot and so, so blue. “But I’m not gay,” he says again.

“Why did you say you were?” Steve asks, because he needs to know. Needs to understand.

Billy wavers, still listing like a buoy in the ocean, and closes his eyes. “Dunno,” he says, and then, “Thought I was.”

“But now you know you’re not?” Steve asks, tentative. Billy seems too vulnerable right now to get angry, but that white-hot temper is never far.

“I’m—” Billy starts, then seems to stop and think. “Yeah,” he says, and as he says it he seems to wilt a bit. Then he straightens up. “I’m not,” he reiterates. “Didn’t want you to… have the wrong idea,” he says. “About me.” And then: “Didn’t wanna tell you.”

Steve thinks it’s funny, almost, that Billy is coming out as straight to him, but it also makes him really fucking sad and also kind of angry, for some reason. It’s not that Billy isn’t allowed to be wrong about his sexual orientation or anything, not that he can’t explore, but—well, but what? Steve doesn’t know exactly, just knows that he’s hurt by this confession.

After that, they have a sort of truce. Billy curbs his whoring around, and they go back to watching movies and getting pizza every once in a while, though much less often than before. This is how they pass February and March. Steve doesn’t get over Billy, exactly, but he grows used to the ache he feels when he sees Billy’s bed empty on Saturday mornings, and he starts hooking up at parties again, but he never brings anyone back to the dorm.

When spring break rolls around, things between them change again.

He comes back from his last class on the Thursday before the vacation, and Billy is sitting on the floor next to his desk, arms crossed over his knees and face obscured by his arms. At first Steve thinks he’s somehow fallen asleep in this position, but then he sees the way Billy’s shoulders are shaking.

He drops his backpack and rushes to his roommate. “Billy? Are you okay? What happened?” he asks, kneeling down and placing a hand on Billy’s shoulder. Both his mind and his heart are suddenly racing. Did somebody die? _What happened?_

“Leave me alone,” Billy says, his harsh tone muffled by his arms—he doesn’t uncurl. His breathing is ragged, like he’s been crying or hyperventilating.

Steve doesn’t move, only grips Billy’s shoulder more tightly and wondering what to say. “Please tell me what happened,” he urges quietly. Then, pleading, “Billy, you’re scaring me.” 

“Leave me _alone_,” Billy repeats, insistent. “I can’t—please,” his voice breaks.

“Billy,” Steve whispers. “I’m not, I’m not _judging_ you, okay? But please, just tell me everything’s fine and then I’ll go.”

Billy doesn’t say anything, though, just retreats even further into himself, and Steve wonders why seeing him like this is so terrifying. Billy is rough and hot-tempered and even a little meanspirited; and sure, Steve’s seen him do _vulnerable_, but never like this before.

Tentatively, Steve sits down next to Billy. He moves his hand from Billy’s shoulder to his back, awkwardly rubbing circles there. He wonders if he’s doing more harm than good by not leaving. Maybe Billy just wants to have a breakdown in peace, and Steve is getting in the way. But he doesn’t want to leave Billy like this.

Billy mumbles something then, but Steve can’t hear him. “What?” he says, feeling and sounding dumb. He should be listening! Why hadn’t he been paying attention? But Billy lifts his head and repeats it, and Steve is so distracted by how red and glassy Billy’s eyes look (like he’s been crying, a _lot_) that he almost doesn’t realize Billy’s saying, “I’m gay,” just like that first night they’d really hung out.

Steve stops himself from saying “_What?_” again, but just barely. “I thought—” he starts, not sure where he’s going, but Billy cuts him off.

“I was never not gay,” he says quietly. “I just—I can’t,” he swipes at his eyes with the backs of his hands, looking away. “I can’t be,” he continues. “I can’t be gay. Here it’s, you know, it’s whatever, it’s college, but at home—my dad—” he doesn’t finish, just looks up and blinks like he’s trying not to let more tears fall.

Steve watches him intently. Shit. “I had no idea,” he says honestly, because _Jesus_. He’d had _no idea_. But it sort of makes sense, suddenly: the bruises in the fall, the sudden ghosting after Christmas, the spell of performative heterosexuality… Suddenly Steve feels embarrassed by his obliviousness, and by his own relatively painless life. Sure, he won’t ever really come out in Hawkins, but his parents know and the kids know and none of them care, not really, and here Steve had imagined Billy’s life in good old democratic Connecticut must have been fine. He was really wrong about that.

“It doesn’t matter,” Billy says, and Steve wants to argue because _of course it matters_ but he can’t because Billy keeps talking. “I just, I really—I can’t go home again. I thought, I thought if I acted the part then I could convince myself and that would convince my dad, but that’s bullshit. He knows, I know, everyone knows.” _I didn’t know_, thinks Steve, but what does that have to do with anything?

Billy stands up, rubbing his face with his hand. He looks exhausted, miserable, _small_. Steve’s never seen Billy look small before. Even from where Steve’s sitting on the floor, looking up at Billy standing, he seems small.

“Do you have to go home? Is someone coming to get you?” Steve asks.

“No, no, I think—I think I’m kicked out. My step-sister called me, told me to make backup plans, and I should be—I should be relieved, right?” Billy looks at Steve, as if Steve should be the one to decide how Billy is supposed to feel.

“I mean,” Steve says, uncertain. “If your dad treats you like shit, then maybe kind of. But this is like, huge. Life-changing.”

“Yeah,” Billy says. “I can’t stop fucking _crying_.” He sounds angry about it, like, _how inconvenient_. Steve marvels at this strange attitude but says nothing. “He’s such a piece of shit, he ruined my life, but—” his voice hitches, and he starts to pace. “I mean, my sister, you know? And my bedroom, my music and my clothes and my _car_. Just, my _life_. My whole life, man.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that, because what can he say?

“I don’t have to worry about tuition, at least,” Billy continues, and shit, that hadn’t even crossed Steve’s _mind_. He’s such an idiot, fuck. “I can stay here for spring break and I’ll get a summer job around here and it’ll all be _fine_, but I just. God.” Billy’s thinking out loud, and Steve’s going to just let him, but then he realizes something.

“Oh, shit, Billy,” Steve says, and he hates to be the one to tell him, and especially now, but what else can he do?

Billy looks up, his gaze hard but also maybe afraid, and Steve feels something tighten in his chest.

“Spring break,” he says. “Campus closes for spring break, nobody can stay on campus.” Steve remembered their RA warning them about this, back at the beginning of the semester. “Lots of people think they can be an exception to this rule if they just email the right people, but I’m telling you this place _shuts down_ for those two weeks. Doesn’t matter if you’re from right here in Massachusetts or if your home is in Taiwan, for spring break you gotta find somewhere else.”

Realization dawns on Billy’s face and he curses. “Fucking shit. Shit! I have no fucking _money_.”

“Wait,” Steve says then, the cogs turning in his brain. He can fix this, he can do this for Billy. He can’t _not_ do something for Billy. “Why don’t you just come home with me?”

“To fucking Illinois?” Billy says, incredulous.

“Indiana,” Steve says.

“_Whatever_, I can’t afford a motel, let alone a fucking plane ticket,” Billy says, and Steve wonders at the image of a motel in a place like Massachusetts. 

“No, no,” Steve says, standing up. “I’ll pay, or my parents will.”

“I don’t even _know_ them, I can’t let them—” 

“Dude, no. It won’t be for you, it’ll be for me. They called me last weekend, they won’t even be home, I told them they _owe me_ and this will be how they make it up to me.” Steve internally cringes at how privileged, how spoiled, even, he sounds, but he forges on. “I’ll call them, tell them I want to bring a friend home for the break. They’ll buy the tickets and that’ll be the only expense anyways because there’s jack shit going on in Hawkins.”

Billy looks conflicted, and pained, but he doesn’t say no. He says, “I’ll think about it,” and then Steve sees his digital clock and realizes he’s _really_ late to Reading Theory and reluctantly leaves Billy alone in their dorm.

He calls his parents that night.

And that’s how he ends up with his roommate in Hawkins for two weeks. Billy’s clearly uncomfortable about the whole thing; he’s really quiet on the flight, just stares out the window at the clouds pretty much the entire time, and Steve doesn’t know how to make things less uncomfortable so he just stays quiet too. On the flight he thinks how funny it is, that four months ago this had been an errant fantasy and now here he is, bringing Billy to Hawkins. Funny and a little bit sad, because the circumstances aren’t exactly idea, and Steve’s not sure how well this will go when he’s so blatantly in you-know-what with the guy.

Mrs. Byers picks them up from the airport, hugs Steve when she sees him and gives Billy a firm handshake. “I hope you boys have been having a good semester!” she says, and Steve feels a sudden surge of warmth and appreciation for his hometown. There are good people here, he thinks.

On the drive back to Hawkins, Steve politely asks about Jonathan and learns that he and Nancy are indeed still together. It’s funny how, when Nancy had first told him she was skipping her senior year to start college early he had thought that she was doing it for Steve, for them. High school seems so far away now. He hasn’t talked to Nancy in weeks, not that he minds or even has any feelings about it at all.

Mrs. Byers asks them if they’d mind going to her house first, before they go to the Harringtons’ place, and Steve says, “That would be great!” and tries to ignore Billy’s intent, perhaps a bit panicked, stare.

The kids are having a Dungeons & Dragons session in the basement when they get there, but Mrs. Byers unlocks the front door he hears what sounds like a stampede as they all bound eagerly up the stairs.

“Steve!” they all say, more or less in unison, crowding around him for hugs and greetings. Dustin gets to him first, and Steve practically picks him up with the force of his hug. He’s so caught up in hugging them all that for a second he forgets about Billy, but then he realizes the kids are all looking at him and Billy is looking back at them, seemingly at a loss for what to do or say.

“This is Billy,” Steve says. “He’s gonna hang out here with me for spring break.”

All of the kids raise their eyebrows knowingly, and Dustin sort of wiggles his suggestively at Steve, whose face reddens. He hopes Billy hadn’t seen that. “He’s just a friend!” he says quickly, and hopes Billy doesn’t notice that either. “But he—uh, he’s never been to Indiana before, and we thought it would be cool, so. Billy,” he says, turning back to his roommate. “This is Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Will—he’s Mrs. Byers’ son—and Jane.”

The kids all say some variation of “Nice to meet you” and Billy does an awkward little wave and that cute nod of his.

“Alright,” says Mrs. Byers. “I just thought you’d all like to see Steve, but he and Billy are probably really tired—” (Steve thinks he hears Dustin mutter, “I bet,” but he chooses to ignore it) “—so I’m going to bring them home now. Now you have to harass him on your own time, not mine!”

When Mrs. Byers drops them off, Billy stands in front of the house holding his duffle bag and whistles lowly. “Shit, man,” he says. “I didn’t know you were loaded.”

“Real estate in Indiana and real estate in New England are very different things,” Steve answers, feeling self-conscious. He’s not even sure what he means with that answer, he just—well. He just doesn’t want the gap between them to widen to a point where he can’t reach across.

He quickly leads them to the front door, unlocks it, and pushes inside.

“Alright,” he says once they’re in the house. “I’ll show you the guest room upstairs—” he isn’t gonna mention that there’s more than one, he’ll just put Billy in the one next to his own room and leave it at that “—and then we can get dinner. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sure,” Billy says, sounding distracted. He’s surveying the foyer, assessing the place. “This is a really nice house.”

“Yeah, we’ve lived here my whole life. I like it, but it’s pretty—I don’t know, it always feels empty, which I don’t like.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” Billy says with a grin. “You won’t be lonely while you’re stuck with me.” 

Steve hadn’t said anything about loneliness, but Billy’s right; Steve often feels lonely at home, even when his parents aren’t away. He doesn’t respond, just kicks off his shoes and leads the way to the staircase.

At first Steve isn’t sure what to do with Billy, but Dustin and the gang coerce them into chauffeuring them to the mall for laser tag one day, and the movies the next. The more they do around town, with the kids and each other, the more Billy seems to loosen up, and soon they’re passing the evenings the way they used to, watching movies and joking around over takeout. Even the awkwardness of the past few months doesn’t linger.

One night they raid Steve’s parents’ liquor cabinet, and they get drunk and watch late night talk shows. Steve is just starting to doze off, the booze making him lethargic, when he feels Billy looking at him. He opens his eyes and turns his head to see Billy, next to him on the couch (there’s a little space between them, and Steve wishes there weren’t but hadn’t dared inch closer after they sat down). Billy is watching him. Steve thinks that Billy doesn’t look drunk at all.

“Steve,” he says, his voice quiet.

Something about his tone makes Steve really focus; he sits up and turns to face Billy. “Yeah?”

“Was this a mistake?” he asks. He looks unsure of himself. Steve blinks, confused.

“What? Was what a mistake?” He looks at Billy, quizzical. Billy sighs.

“All of it,” he says. “I mean, like. Are we friends?”

This again? “Of course,” Steve says, and this time he feels more certain. “Yeah, we’re definitely friends—right?”

“I mean, yeah, but. Do you regret it?”

“Regret being friends with you?” Steve’s sort of in disbelief. What a question! “Holy shit, man, of course not. You’re like—you’re like my closest friend in college.” He hadn’t planned to ever mention that to Billy, but it’s pretty obvious—and how sad is that? They went months hardly speaking, and yet Steve hadn’t found any better friends. Well, there’s Tommy from the soccer club, they get meals together often, but he’s a clout-chaser, and kind of annoying.

Billy looks reassured. “Cool,” he says. “I know I’m—I know I’ve been a shitty friend, and I’m, uh, difficult. But you’re—you’re the same. For me.”

Steve feels his cheeks heat up and he looks away. “Cool,” he says back.

On Monday of the second week, Steve fucks up.

He isn’t thinking, really (what else is new?), is just eager to get the day underway because he’s decided he wants to take Billy to the quarry. So once he’s put on the coffee and put some shitty Indiana bagels in the toaster, he goes back upstairs and bypasses his own room in favor of Billy’s, throwing open the door as he says, “Billy—”

And there’s Billy, lying on the bed with his cock in his hand. “Fuck!” he says, grasping at the comforter in an effort to cover himself, at the same time that Steve says “Oh, shit—”

Steve practically throws himself back into the hallway and slams the door shut behind him, heart pounding as he thinks about what he just saw. Billy, naked—well, he’s seen Billy more or less naked before, in the mornings and at night, but they both make a point not to look at each other when one of them is changing (obviously, because watching would be, like, _so_ weird—right?), but he’s never seen Billy’s _dick_. And it had been really nice. But that’s not the point, the point is that Steve’s a fucking idiot and has definitely gone and screwed everything up between them.

“I’m so sorry!” he says to the door. “I should have knocked, I’m an idiot!”

He hears faint rustling from inside the guest room, and then Billy says, “Just give me a sec, it’s fine.” A moment later he opens the door, dressed, and it occurs to Steve that he, Steve, is sporting a semi-erection that is definitely visible through his sweatpants (not that Billy has reason to look at his crotch).

Steve awkwardly turns away and hurries back toward the stairs. “Breakfast!” he says, his voice sounding weird even to himself. “And sorry again!”

Things are a little awkward while they eat, but at least Billy doesn’t look like he wants to murder Steve. At one point Billy starts to ask a question, “Did you hear—?” but he doesn’t finish, his cheeks flushing pink, and Steve pretends like he hadn’t heard and says, “These bagels sure are shitty, huh?” 

After that, they go to the quarry. Steve stops at the local deli first so they can bring a makeshift picnic lunch (Billy thinks it’s not really a picnic lunch if they don’t make it themselves, but whatever), and they’re there before noon. They climb the rock faces and throw rocks into the water for a while, and Steve kind of feels like a kid again. Then they pick a spot high up, overlooking the whole pool of water, and eat lunch.

Steve’s a fast eater, and he’s finished with his sub before Billy’s even reached the second half of his bisected veggie wrap. There’s a little hummus on Billy’s upper lip, and Steve tells him as much, watching as Billy’s tongue licks it gone.

Steve can’t tell if the awkwardness from earlier has gone away or not, but it doesn’t bother him. Billy has seemed much happier here in Hawkins than he had been at school these past few months, as far as Steve can tell. Steve’s proud of himself for that, feels like he’s allowed to take a little credit. Tries not to think too much about why Billy’s happiness is so important—he’s just being a good friend, whatever, it’s fine.

“Steve,” Billy says, and Steve looks up immediately. He can’t help it; there’s something about the way Billy says his name. It makes him feel like he’s the only person who matters, as corny as that is.

“Yeah?” He watches Billy, who’s not looking at Steve.

He’s looking at his own lap, chewing at the nail of his right pinky. He looks vulnerable again. Seeing Billy look vulnerable always does things to Steve’s heart, and this time is no exception. He silently admonishes himself for being so damn embarrassing, and prompts, “Billy?”

“Listen,” Billy says, his voice taking a familiar aggressive tone that makes Steve a little nervous. Uh oh. “You know I’m gay, yeah?”

“Right,” Steve agrees, uncertain. Where is this going? Is he going to deny it again?

“Well, there’s—something else.” Billy’s eyes had been watching Steve intensely a moment ago but now he looks away again, and Steve watches Billy’s handsome profile.

“Whatever it is,” Steve says, “I promise I won’t not be your friend over it, okay? Unless it’s like really, _really_ fucked up.”

Billy laughs at that, but the laugh end as a sort of huff, a weird frustrated sigh. “Yeah,” Billy says. “Right.” He looks at his hands, and Steve looks at the hands as well. They’re beautiful hands, big and tan and somehow kind of elegant. Steve wonders if Billy had ever had to learn piano, like Steve had as a kid.

“So what is it, then?” Steve asks after a few moments, when it becomes clear that Billy isn’t about to come out and say it.

Billy looks pained, but finally he says, “I like you.” And Steve’s confused, because, well, aren’t they friends? Isn’t that what being friends is about? But then, oh. _Oh._

“Oh,” Steve says.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “I just—I mean, this morning, when you came in, I thought—”

At the same time, Steve says, “That’s crazy, what the hell?”

Billy stops mid-sentence and looks at Steve. His face does a few things in quick succession before it settles on a kind of sad scowl.

“I mean,” Steve backtracks, floundering. “Billy, I like you too. Like, so much. I kind of thought maybe you knew, even. That’s why it’s so crazy, like.”

“Shit,” Billy says. “Shit, you do?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Wait, this morning, what did you think?”

Billy blushes, scowling again. But then he admits, “I thought maybe you’d heard me. Say your name.”

And that does things to Steve’s dick.

“Oh, you were thinking about me,” he says, intelligently (not).

“Yeah, dumbass,” Billy says. He moves closer to Steve. More softly, he says, “I think about you kind of a lot.”

Steve turns, brings his face closer to Billy’s. Billy closes the distance between them.

(Later, he says, “We should go back to your house.”

“Yeah, we should,” Steve agrees.)


End file.
